


Dissonance

by vodkamutini



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkamutini/pseuds/vodkamutini
Summary: You've always hated relationships. At least, up until now.





	Dissonance

It’s 5am and you’ve been staring at the streetlamp outside your window for nearly ten minutes now. And honestly, your eyes ache a little from the lack of sleep you’ve been getting lately. ( I mean, who could blame you-you’re sleeping next to Rachel fucking Amber out of all people.)

Reluctantly, you're dragging your gaze away to look down at the body curled up in the shape next to yours, because sometimes ( more like all the time. ) you have to pinch yourself to make sure this is reality and also because sometimes you're scared that the border between that and the realm of dreams is becoming thinner by the day. The waning light from outside filters in off those slightly grimy windows of yours which are well past the expiration date of cleanliness; highlighting the contour of her shoulders and draping past the curve of her back almost as if searching for the wings which are long since absent. As the sun begins to rise, it dyes her hair in this sort of, inky gold that you've found yourself admiring more than once. Fuck, you struggle to come to terms with it sometimes and it’s corny for you to even admit this, but you swear she’s made of stardust. 

At this point, your elbow is slightly dead from the pressure of her neck against it; but you never really minded that so you let her remain how she is. Idly though, you’re tracing the individual strands of her hair; ( christ, how did she manage to get it so soft-- ) and … you haven’t really realised it yet, but when did you start looking at her with such a pained look in your eyes?

And then it suddenly dawns on you that you're going to fucking **miss** this. 

It begins with this gnawing sensation that claws its way up eagerly from the bottom of your gut and forces itself into your lungs, suffocating them with a dense blackness, leaving you without air to breathe and it ends with a hollow emptiness that surges through your brittle bones. You already knew that you ruin everything you touch, but this was so much fucking more than that. 

Rachel Amber is **perfect**.

Not in the way of looks, or that she was the smartest person at Arcadia Bay, or that she probably came from a family that was well off. It was because she just lived on this plane of existence that you felt was just so far off and inaccessible. You banish the thought of ever even trying to reach it, because you know it's impossible to you. Even now, as she lies there next to you, she’s never felt so far away and that- **that** fills you with something that borders on this intense vulnerability, leaving you terrified in it's wake. 

Her faint laugh choruses in your mind, her smile contagious, warm & kind. You remember yourself watching her as she dances along the railroad tracks and you wonder if anyone else would ever be enough for you anymore. You wonder if anyone else would ever be deserving enough of her, anymore. You wonder if .. **you** deserve her, anymore. And you utterly  & truly think she is from another world because angels don't exist in this one. 

But next to her? you feel like you’re drowning in her shadow, helpless and struggling beneath the tide; her presence far too intense, too fierce. At Blackwell, it always has been Rachel Amber this & Rachel Amber that. She exists in everything and she is **your** , everything. There’s never a moment when someone’s eyes aren’t on her, when someone’s not talking to her, mentioning her name, mentioning how intelligent she is, mentioning how beautiful she is ( and she truly is. ) And you, **Chloe Price** ? You’re nothing. You've always _been_ nothing and you’ve always known you’re just some deadbeat loser who has never held any worth. But you’ve basked in her brilliance and drunk deep of the rays that shone past her shoulders-and for a moment, just a single _fucking_ moment; you felt as if whatever charred remains of a heart you had, kindled if just for a minute. And you can feel it-you can feel it now, you felt it on the train, in the park, _in the junkyard_ . For just a minute, you felt alive. She actually made _you_ , feel **alive**.

And living feels like agony. On some nights it makes you feel like you're going to explode from the inside, out.

This weak heart of yours that barely beats is oh so fragile. It's so fragile, that it hurts. It hurts & all you want to do is clutch at your chest to keep it from tearing at the seams. You love her and you've loved her for oh so very long.

Because it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it? Until there’s someone smarter, popular, better looking, someone with the brilliance of the stars that could almost match hers; because those are traits which are certainly not found in you. There is nothing about you, that could hold the gravity of the stars & there is nothing about you, that could certainly do anything to make her stay-not with that wounded heart of yours. People, leave you. You've known this for some time, now. You've already been counting the days from the start but you also can't bear the thought of living in a world without her. You're one eternal paradox, Chloe Price.

And you have to struggle with the notion of not running away out of sheer terror for the future, because if you move, you’ll wake her up. And your mom’s words echo in your mind, David’s too. ( for fuck’s sake. ) ‘ _you need to put someone else above yourself_ ’ which, shit, you’ve been doing- or at least trying to do ever since you met this oncoming storm named Rachel Amber. The fact that there’s someone who exists in this shitty world who makes you want to be a better person sounds ridiculous enough on it's own, despite being true. 

But god fucking damn, you want to be selfish. You want to be so damn selfish that you let it consume you completely despite the emptiness that hangs so heavily in your chest. You want to keep her as secret that only you, yourself know; you want to be the only one that knows what her face looks like first thing in the morning & the last thing at night. You also know that there’s an end to all things, but you also want time to stop so you can stay here in this small room that now carries the soft scent of jasmine. You want to remember the taste of her mouth after three cigarettes and the soft curve of her body against yours. Hell, you don’t just want to remember it; you want to carve it into your skull forever. You have a lot of wants, and more than anything you want her, but wanting isn't always enough.

It's 5:20am and you miss her, but she's right fucking there. 

And you’ll choke back those tears that were threatening to fall and you’ll look at her face just a little bit longer, searching for the fire behind those eyes of hers and wish for better days ahead while you’ve still got them.


End file.
